The Art of War
by Half Mart
Summary: King Reonmad invades eastern Mossflower. The East Coast Lord must hold out for help from Salamandstron and Redwall:
1. The Gathering of Armies

The wind whipped the waves high, sending them crashing against the rocky shoreline. A few yards above the tide-line was an old mouse wife, bent with age. She sat huddled in her shawl around a small fire under a rocky outcropping that sheltered her from the fierce winds. She was no stranger to the freak and sudden storms of the southeast. She stared out at the storm watching the ferocity of mother nature. Huge waves crashed against the rocks, seeming to try to dislodge the wrecks of four once huge seagoing vessels. Yet they were half buried by sand, and stood firm against the waves.

"A beast, can git killed by going out in that weather, oh yes indeed", muttered the old mouse wife to herself. She soon fell asleep from the warmth of the fire. Had she been able to piece the dark thundering night she would have seen a vessel drifting close to shore.

Captain Threugg was not happy. He was a rat with muscles like bricks and veins like rope, quite tall for his species and his eyes glittered like amber in the light from the swinging lantern above him. His fur was a dark brown and he wore a trench coat with sea boots but wore no pirate finery. For he was no pirate, but a captain in King Reonmad's navy, trying to intercept merchantmen.

Nine days after setting sail in his ship the _Trident_ they were holed at the waterline by an unknown reef. Now they were also low on water besides lost in a gale and slowly sinking. The winds outside seemed to whistle as it blew through the rigging and the taut ropes and sails like a giant harp. Every beast was below decks and Threugg could imagine the crew sitting in their hammocks, cursing the wind, the rain, the sea, and him.

Dawn found the crew of the _Trident_ pumping out the sea water energetically while the rest set about sewing and patching the sails. Suddenly the cry of "Land Ho!!!" caught their attention. Captain Threugg rushed onto deck in a gray coat, fasting his scimitar to his side. Taking control of the wheel from his bosun, a fox named Vendal, Threugg called out"Where away Ripear?

"North, by north east, capt'n" replied Ripear. Setting the course he gave the wheel back to Vendel and summoned his lieutenants into the great cabin. Sitting behind his desk in an decorated chair with wolf skins draped over it, his amber colored eyes searched over them. The first was a rat like himself. A former corsair named Bladetail. Bladetail wore his gray Lt.'s uniform and a gold hoop through one ear. A reminder from his pirating days.. Bladetail stood to attention holding his breath. The Captain had been known to have violent mood changes. The next was a ferret with white fur and a pink nose. Similarly clad like Bladetail in his Lt.'s uniform though with only one instead of two gold bars on his right sleeve marking him as a second Lt., named Whiteclaw. The third was Old Carn, another rat dressed in work clothes. Carn was tough and strong and was the ship armorer.

"Bladetail, when we reach landfall, take a small group of about eight fighters, arm your selves from the armory and then go ashore and scout out the land. Don't try to get in a fight with any hostile force, just report back, understand?" asked Threugg turning from where he was watching out the cabin windows. Bladetail nodded, dumbly and stared straight ahead. Threugg resumed his pacing. "Whiteclaw, take twelve fighters and find some fresh water. You're in charge of dat." Then Threugg rounded on Carn. "Carn, you're goin a take charge of patching the hull. We won't need to beach the ship in order to repair it."

"It t'will be done as you say master," said Old Carn. At a nod from Threugg, the three turned on their heels and walked out, happy to get out of the cabin. Threugg walked onto the quarter deck, automatically checking the sails. With this strong breeze and press of canvas, they should make landfall by late afternoon. The blue sky above promised a hot day, and the seagulls cried out happily as the ship cook threw out the food that had grown rotten. He glanced ideally over the decks. His crew were mostly rats with the odd ferret or weasel and the occasional fox. Most of the sailors were spread out on deck sewing and patching the sails along with a few of Bladetail's fighters. Threugg frowned, the fighters were actually archers that in battle would climb the mast and shoot down on the decks of the enemy. Though they could also be put ashore and used as infantry armed with their dirks. In the old navy, sailors did everything, there were no special fighters, still they may be useful if they stop being seasick, he thought to himself.

His ship, the _Trident_ was a three masted vessel, fairly large, that was low to the water with a wide bird-like bow, and just two decks. Again he frowned, mounted on the top deck were four large crossbows. Each one was fired by a crew of two, and would release two arrows with a sharp, strong, line about a yard long in between. The line was covered with glue and then glass. The missiles would drag the line between them, ripping up sails _and heads _he thought wickedly to himself. .Eight even larger crossbows were located on the second deck. These took the form of a tube, hollow at both ends with a large bow on the back. These fired huge bolts, capable of smashing through the oak hull of a war galley. Chuckling quietly to himself, he thought of King Reonmad's advisor, a rat named Golth, who was fascinated with making his own machines of war.

Motioning for his clerk, a fat weasel named Scarback, he turned and went back into his cabin. The weasel placed a tattered book on the desk. Turning, Threugg dismissed the weasel with a wave of his hand, picked up the book and turning to a page, ran down the crew roster. A total of two hundred sailors and thirty-five fighters. Looking over the piles of notes on his desk, he reviewed his orders written in the hand of Admiral Lash." To destroy all merchant ships belonging to the East Coast tribes of Lord Dunbar." Then there ways the mouse skull crest of King Reonmad, ruler of all the vermin (though mostly rats) on Simped Island. Leaning back in his chair, weariness overtook Theugg and he began to dream

As the fire burned low, the cry of seagulls awakened the old mouse wife. Standing up and stretching she brushed the sand off her shawl. Smiling, she rubbed her eyes and stared out at the sunrise. Suddenly she froze, it looked as if the four beached ships were moving! Impossible! Rubbing her eyes, she squinted again. The ships were not moving, but the four ships behind them were. Running to the shore she looked again. Yes, there were four huge ships, each one was lowering rowboats filled with armed vermin. A couple actually tipped over because there were so many of them in the rowboat. At first she thought they must be pirates, but she could see they were wearing breast plates and pirates did not wear armor. Deciding that no matter who they were, that they were armed vermin was enough, she turned and ran. A small sob of fear escaped her as she clambered up the side of the sand dunes. Fear lent strength to her aged limbs as a shower of arrows fell around her. She gritted her teeth as one pierced her foot paw. Then her paws were on hard land again. Hobbling as fast as she could, she tripped and fell on a stone concealed by the tall grass. Lying still, hardly daring to breath she began to sob quietly. Then she peeked out as ten vermin, mainly rats though also a few weasels and stoats and foxes, all wearing matching breastplates and carrying short bows and drawn dirks, marched past her. Finally when she was sure they were gone, she tied her foot pad with some grass to stop the flow of blood and hobbled off north, toward her village.

The East Coast has none of Mossflower's trees, or the Northland's mountains, or Salamandastom's sand dunes, all it has is tall grass that waves in the wind and foggy moors. The East Coast was ruled by the royal mouse family. Currently that was Lord Dunbar, a fierce, jolly, heavy set mouse who loved a good fight. He ruled from his ancestral home, Castle Ruboc. Even though it was it far inland, fog still hung about it. It stood on a small rise overlooking the surrounding country-side. It's main keep and it's three towers were surrounded by an inner wall, and then still a second outer wall. The walls were star-shaped so when the area between two points was attacked, the defenders in both points could fire at the attackers. It's battlements were constantly guarded by a patrol of mice and squirrels, and otters . On clear days it was said that you could see the sea-side town of Mareta,( though it was almost all ways foggy).

Lord Dunbar, dressed in a red cape and chain-mail with a gold crown on his head was every inch a mouse king. His short stubby sword was thrust through a red sash across his waist. Hurrying through the stone corridors, Dunbar was followed by a tall gangling hare with white fur who walked one stride to Dunbar's two. The hare wore a monocle, and a field uniform, covered with an array of medals. Leaving the Great Hall, Dunbar opened a tall door, carved with lilies. Closing the heavy door behind him he stepped into the room. The floor was polished wood and the walls were covered with pictures of the castle and the royal family. At one end was a heavy wooden desk littered with papers. Along the opposite wall was a huge marble fire place, big enough to stand in. In the very center was a small rug and on it sat four chairs, two of which were occupied. The occupants of the chair, a mouse maid and a bankvole, both wearing green habits, rose and curtsied when Dunbar entered. Dunbar gave a short bow then ran forward to shake paws. "Sister Sinetra, and Sister Rive'ow nice to see you again," he said shaking the paws of the mouse maid and the bankvole. Turning he motioned for his accomplice to step forward."Ladies, allow me to introduce Major Feldco of the East Army. Bowing deeply the hare shook paws with Sinetra, whose furry brown paw disappeared in Feldco's huge paw and completely immersed Rive's black paw.

With introductions out of the way the Dunbar plopped into a chair followed by the others.

"Ladies," said Dunbar, "I have long heard stories of the famed Redwall, and of it's great hospitality and also it's heroics in battle. Today a great shadow of evil has been thrown upon the East Coast. Vermin Warships have landed two-thousand vermin upon our shores, under orders from King Reonmad. Their warships have been sighted, destroying our merchant ships. Today my fleet of five warships set sail to deal with the scourge. But I need to raise an army to fight by land. The East Army numbers only five-hundred beasts. Lord Streamblade is marching here with two-hundred and fifty of Salamandaston's finest. But I still need more beasts if I am to win this. Can Redwall help us?"

In the flickering fire light, the the mouse maid and the bankvole fell silent. Then, speaking out calmly and clearly in a strong voice, the mouse maid said"Lord Dunbar, We could not call ourselves Redwallers if we did not try to assist such brave folk, as yourselves. Redwall pledges to stand firm", Rive nodded her furry black head in agreement.

"Thank you Sinetra and Rive of Redwall, It is good to know that we still have such wonderful friends as you. When will you leave, for Redwall?" Inquired Dunbar.

"Immediately after breakfast, tomorrow you're Lordship," said Rive.

"I shall have food prepared for you to take with you tomorrow," said Dunbar, and wishing them good night, the two Redwallers left.

"Well," said Feldco, after the door slammed shut behind them, "they certainly seem like a responsible, energetic pair."

"Oh, indeed they are old friend, otherwise Abbess May of Redwall would not have sent them," said Dunbar. Then walking across the room he unrolled a map of the East Coast. Turning he pointed to a spot on the map. "The fishing village of Firern is located on our southern most border. Directly in the path of the vermin. What do you advise major? "asked Dunbar, looking up into the face of Feldco.

"Well, If I led our forces up onto to the high ground, between the village and the vermin I think we co'd well make ah stan' to at least sloe 'em down, until reinforcements arrive." Replied Feldco, after much consideration.

"Very well, said Dunbar, nodding wisely. "I"ll tell the troops to arm up tonight, we'll march at dawn.!"

"Ah, you sure my lord, that you want to come with us? After all, you're a Mouse Lord," said Feldco hastily, after seeing his friend's slightly hurt look.

"Oh, quite," said Dunbar,"But it has been far to long since I last skinned a rat, or walloped a weasel," said Dunbar, as he felt bloodlust begin to descend upon him.

"You're right my friend, you'll of course be coming," said Feldco in a slightly awed voice to the mouse in front of him. For in front of him was indeed a warrior mouse, made of granite to last the ages, with eyes that blazed with blue fire and more fierce and deadly than a grown viper, here indeed was a king of mice.

"I say, awe, it has been a while since I felt battle lust upon me."said Dunbar shaking his head, as if to clear it, and returning to normal, feeling quite tired. "I say, do you think there are any scones left, Feldco, I feel quite hungry."said Dunbar.

"Let's check out the kitchens old pal, you grub stealer."anserwed Feldco jokingly.

"Ah! A hare telling another beast that he is a grub stealer! Now I've heard everything! Besides," added Dunbar," I am a Mouse Lord, and we do not steal," said Dunbar defensively. With playful banter the two friends headed out the room.

Frindel was a Great Rat. Dressed in golden armor with a spiked helmet and armed with a spear, he was every inch a conqueror. He laughed at the sky, that only made the stoat captain at his feet worry more. All around him thousands of soldiers dragged ashore equipment, everything from arrows and wine to bread and lamps. Already the beach was clogged full of soldiers and still more kept coming. Stepping forward he spoke to the captain at his feet, who buried his snout in the sand, he was bowing so low. "So, let me get this straight. A band of forty mice shot arrows at you. You attacked them, wounding thirty, and forced them to retreat. Taking their wounded with them."

The stoat, spitting out sand, nodded furiously, knowing his life depended on it. Shaking with rage, the rat paced back and forth. He knew the stoat was lying, still he wanted his fun."You lie, he yelled! Admit it!", shaking with fury, the rat began beating the helpless stoat's bare back with the end of his spear. The stoat curled into a ball, and his cries startled the seagulls. The soldiers carried on, averting their eyes from the gruesome sight. They knew what would happen if they got Frindel mad. Sighing, Frindel stepped away from the quivering stoat. The stoat's head was now lacerated with angry red welts. Frindel called out,"This stoat will be bathed in seawater until morning. Then he will join his squad, as a rank and file. Because he lied!" The stoat moaned, and then coughed violently, before collapsing. Turning to a rat in the stoat's former squad he announced."You shall now bear the rank of captain. Take over from the stoat." Shaking visibly, the rat saluted and retreated back to join his squad.

Sighing again, Frindel, closed his eyes. If the mouse had gotten away, she would alarm the entire coast. Better to get going then, he thought to himself. "Tell, the division captains to have their creatures form up." He yelled to a passing aide. The noon day sun beamed down on the soldiers, roasting them in their armor. Even though every pore in Frindel's body was sweating and sand had entered the joints in his armor, irritating his skin, he retained an impassive look on his face. Gratefully though, he retired to the cover of his tent set up on the shoreline. The tent was guarded by four black rats, in black cloaks. His personal body guards. Each one was huge, a mountain of muscle, and they were loyal to no one, except him. For Frindel trusted no one. Plopping down on a chair he picked idlely at a roasted duck and some damson wine served on a silver platter. Frindel bent down and selected a blood red cloak from his war-chest next to the chair that contained his personal armor and chain-mail. Twirling the cloak over his shoulders, he fastened it with a thin gold chain about his neck. Then as a drum began to beat, he stepped out onto the beach, temporarily blinded by the sun. Shading his eyes he grinned with satisfaction he surveyed the two-thousand troops that were formed up on the beach. Each one was part of a hundred beast division. The line stretched down the beach for a mile or so. "Today, we march forth, to make war on the East Coast. We will burn their villages and destroy their armies. For no beast can stand in the way of Frindel and his army of warriors. Have I not always led you to victory?," he yelled out. Two-thousand voices roared their approval. At a nod from Frindel, the lone drummer began to play a steady, tap-tap-tap. Like a giant armored snake, they marched forward at double time. Chanting,"Frindel !Frindel !Kill !Kill!"The wind whipped out their division banners topped with skulls, flapping them in the breeze. They were indeed a fearsome sight. At last, War had come to the East Coast!

Threugg glanced down on the soft white sand and felt the warmth of the sun's rays play on his back and watched them sparkle as they hit the clear blue water below him. He knew where he was. It was the East Coast. He was pleased. Whiteclaw had managed to find fresh water, and Old Carn reported that the hole was sealed. Threugg turned away from the railing as he heard paws approaching. The searat saluted and reported,"Da water is on board and L't. Badetail is back Cap'n. Returning the salute, Threugg stepped up onto the quarterdeck.. In a fine voice he called out,"All hands, prepare to cast off. Let lose the bow ropes and stern ropes! Up the anchor! Run up the main! Set loose the jib!"The ship buzzed into activity, the slowest crew member often receiving the knotted end of a heavy rope from the officers. Turning to Vendel, he ordered,"Steer us into deep water, then get me from my cabin."

"Aye, aye, Cap'in." replied Vendel. Suddenly the cry of "Sail ho!," rent the air, and floated down to the quarter deck. All activity immediately stopped. "How many of 'em Ripear?" asked Threugg.

"Just one of 'em, Cap'n. Two points off the starboard side.'Looks like an East Coast war ship, Cap'in.!"

Threugg, grinned happily. Here was a fight!. He glanced at the crew. Most were grinning wickedly at the approaching ship, fingering their sabers and cutlasses. Speaking to Whiteclaw he said," Whiteclaw, beat to quarters, Bladetail, send your fighters up the masts, and Carn, ready the crossbows.!" With a wild cheer, the crew set about their work with a will. Knives and dirks, were sharpened and large quantities of arrows were stacked up. The crew ran to their crossbows, loading the first volley. Sand was poured on the deck, to provide traction from the blood that would fall.

Eyeing the East Coast ship through his scope, Threugg could see similar activities going on in their ship. Their ships had no crossbows, instead they had four catapaults, each at about six feet high and eight feed wide, on their top deck. These, Threugg knew were very deadly. They would hurl shards of hot metal or small spiked balls through the air. Also,the Eastern ships while slower, were more maneuverable, because they used oars, and only had a single sail.

At extreme range, with the ships parallel to each other, Threugg yelled out,"Fire as she bears!" The crossbows let loose with a sharp twang, sending the missiles ripping through the single sail. Hurridly they reloaded, and let loose another volley, bringing down the mast. Now though they were close enough for the opponent to bring it's catapualts into play. The shards of metal ripped up the deck, sending eighteen inch long splinters everywhere. Two searats had their bellies ripped open and a weasel was stabbed through the chest. Now within close range, both ships opened up with all they had. The archers up top fired mercilessly onto the packed decks Two of the lighter crossbows were smashed to pieces, killing the four that were servicing them and smashing through the deck , killing every beast below it. Then another iron ball snapped off the _Trident_'s rudder. They could now no longer steer. Peering through the his telescope, Threugg watched the East Coast ship intently. The ship began to cut in front of the _Trident_. Cold fear gripped Threugg as he realized what they were about to do, and that he was helpless. The _Trident_'s crew could not turn their crossbows to fire directly in front of their ship. The East Coast ship let loose, firing down the length of the entire ship. The carnage was enormous. Hundreds screamed as they were hit, some falling into the watery depths never to be seen again. Threugg could not allow that to happen again, he knew he must board.

The creatures around him had taken off their shirts and sweat ran down their faces as they fired and loaded as quickly as possible. Drawing his sword, he cried,"Now or never men, grappling hooks away!."

With that, Threugg grabbed a rope and swung onto the enemy's deck. Only a hundred and fifty crew were able to follow him. The East Coast crew was waiting for them. A shower of arrows met them as they boarded. Some thirty or forty vermin fell into the sea, between the two ships, with arrows impaled upon their chests.

Threugg swung his cutlasses at his opponent, a burly sea otter armed with an axe. The otter countered the blow, but then Threugg swung up, thrusting his cutlass through the otter's body. Which erupted out the back in a fountain of blood and gore. Glancing around he saw most of his crew lay dying and wounded, along with a fair number of dead otters and mice and squirrels. His crew was outnumbered nearly two to one. Sidestepping he slew a mouse and then found himself forced back into a ring around the stump of the mast. On his left was Bladetail and Whiteclaw, on his right were two ferrets. Blocking a thrust, Badetail spoke to Threugg,"Looks like we're go'in to 'ave ta surrender Cap'n."

Something snapped inside Threugg, he gave a wild animal yell.. In near insanity he yelled out to Carn, who was the only creature sill on board the _Trident_. "Fire the crossbows Carn, fire the crossbows!"

"But cap'n," yelled Carn, shocked.

'Do it!"screamed Threugg, throwing a dagger at him.

Ducking, as he went, Carn one by one set off the _Trident_'s crossbows. Threugg's head was snapped by a string from the lighter cross bows. His head fell ono the deck, amber eyes unseeing. The other arrows ripped into the tightly packed oar crew. All five of the huge lead tipped bolts, each a quarter of a foot wide, three feet long, smashed through the hull slautering nearly the entire oar crew.

When the dust rose, the two ferrets and Old Carn surrendered. Two hundred and thirty-two vermin lay dead and wounded. A young mouse with bright eyes and carrying a bloody sword

helped the dazed Carn to his feet. Then the young mouse spoke kindly to the dazed rat,"It is an honor to meet someone which fought so bravely. I am Captain Rainwort, and you are now my prisoner." Then calling to an aide he said, "Transfer all of our wounded and living into the vermin ship. We are sinking fast." In the dimming light of the setting sun, the _Triden_t set sail, headed East.

Sinetra awoke early just as the morning light reached her cot. Putting on her habit she splashed cold water on her face and cleaned her two large front teeth with a piece of straw. Then going down the stone staircase she found Rive finishing a bowl of porridge while the morning cooks began to make breakfast and start up the ovens. "Well, thank you for waiting on Rive," said Sinetra dryly.

"It's not my fault you slept in", pouted Rive. "Come, grab a scone and let's go outside, we can see the King depart."

Grabbing a scone and dodging a swipe from a fat mole wife armed with a ladle, they picked up two knapsacks filled with food. Then they exited the kitchens and gazed at the scene below them. There in front of them was indeed a majestic sight. Sinetra felt her heart swell at the sight, of the East Army. They were a multitude of squirrels, otters, mice, moles, hedgehogs, and hares clad in thick tunics with a scattering of chain-mail among them. All looked determined and at the sight of their King they gave a loud rousing cheer that echoed against the walls of the parade ground.

How heroic they look, thought Rive. Dunbar and Feldco both waved in ecnolegement to both Rive and Sinetra and the troops. They were each clad in chain-mail and Dunbar carried his trusty sword, while Feldco had armed himself with a pike.. At a wave of Dunbar's sword a young drummer began to play and somewhere a trumpet broke out. As the first sweet notes broke the air the columns began to march forth, five-hundred voices singing lustily, One find morn I marched away,

I left behind my foggy moor and grabbed a sword.

To march and fight all day,

The Great Rat horde.

Both Rive and Sinetra watched them march away until only a faint dust cloud could be seen. Then they to left, heading west into Mossflower Woods.

The hot sun blazed mercilessly down on the parched land. Rubbing their tongues around their parched mouths, they marched on in silence. Kicking up a dust cloud as they went, each stared down at the foot paws of the hare in front ofhim. Until when they closed their eyes at night they could still see that hare's heels, going right-left-right-left, for what seemed an enternity. Every now and then they would risk a glance at the blur on the horizon that marked the start of Mossflower and that night's campsite. Hoping it would seem a just a little bit closer. Ahead of them, always some fifty yards ahead walked the Badger Lord. Lord Streamblade marched on quietly, never slowing, and carrying his great spear, which was as large a young oak tree, slung over his shoulder, and so onward marched the Long Patrol of Salamandastron.

That evening just as the sun was setting, turning a deep red right before it plunged the wold into darkness, the weary hares marched into camp. Laying out their groundsheets, they lit several small fires and the hare cooks, using water from a near by stream, made a leek and turnip soup which was eaten up heartlly by the tired hares. Then cleaning their weapons they collapsed onto of their groundsheets, except for the few who were assinged to sentry duty by the seargent. Lord Streamblade observed all of this through his deep brown eyes. Turning to his solitary companion, he spoke. "Well, cornol, we covered a fair distance today. Keep up this pace tomorrow and we'll reach Redwall Abbey by late evening. You're hares have done well."


	2. The Waiting

Sunlight streamed through the branches and green foliage, casting dark, cool, pools of shade at the base of the trees. The brown dusty path, stretched onward. At a small bend rose up the famed Redwall Abbey. It's sandstone battlements towered over the forest and the surrounding countryside. Next to the path, the young mouse Lanster sat in the grass with a glazed expression on his face, listening to Rubert explain about herbs. "Now, wild thyme is used for minor toothaches and such," explained the fat mouse, asorbed in his work. "Now", he said standing up. "What is the use of lesser budock? Are you listening, young Lanster?" asked Rubert, peering angrily over his spectacles.  
"What, o, er, sorry brother. Um let me see, lesser budock. Hmm." Then, as to save him from further embarrassment, he spotted two figures walking down the path."Brother Rubert, look!" Turning, the Brother called up.  
"Sound the bells, creatures on the path!"  
  
Rive and Sinetra were met on the path by Nett, the gatekeeper, and several other brothers and sisters. There was much hugging and paw shaking all around.  
"Oh, how nice to you again, my but you've grown!"  
"Why, hello Rive. Guess what? I'm taking up sewing!"  
"Hey, Nett, you've not changed a bit!"  
Rive and Sinetra found themselves dragged away by the Abbey Warrior, Trey. "The Abbess, wants to see you two." Ushering them upstairs, they knocked on the thick oaken door. A voice on the other side said," Send them in Trey."  
They were confronted by the Abbess, a wise looking mouse, not to far advanced in her seasons, sitting in a cosy armchair, gazing out over the grounds. " Come in, come in young ones. Don't look so nervous, or your face will stick that way." Closing the door behind them, the three friends sat down on the carpet and window seal. "Now then Rive, I want to hear all about the trip What does Lord Dunbar have to say?"  
  
Their story stretched on into the evening, pausing only to have supper brought up, and when it was finished a grim silence filled the room. Trey spoke first, "Well then, I will march to aid Lord Dunbar." The Abbess nodded her head.  
"I shall ask for volunteers in the morning to accompany me. I am sure Skipper and Log-a-Log would not mind coming." continued Trey, thinking hard.  
Unexpectedly, Rive spoke up."I want to go with thee, Trey."  
"Ay and so do I," added Sinetra.  
"No, you'll are naught but dibbuns, said Trey, referring to the Abbey babes. "I care for you two, and don't want to see you two hurt," he added, seeing the hurt look on Rive and Sinetra. Rive gave the abbess a pleading look.  
" It has been seasons since this abbey last saw bloodshed." Said the Abbess addressing them all and ignoring the look,"Now, I think it would be wise for us to get some rest, so that we may all have a clear head tomorrow."  
That night, the cool breeze whistled through the branches of Mossflower woods and over the ancient, weathered stones of Redwall, that had seen so many autumn harvests. They had seen so many die, so much blood run for the protection of these sacred, rose colored stones. The autumn moon shone through Trey's window, bathing him in moonlight. In his dream Trey saw a fellow warrior mouse. Trey felt immediately at peace, a great calmness came over him. He wanted to stay with this warrior. The warrior mouse wore armor, and his face was helmeted. Yet, Trey knew immedeatley who this was, it was Martin the Warrior. The founder of Redwall. The armored mouse turned and spoke to him, "The river lord marches from Sala-manda- strom,  
Followed by two hundred and some,.  
And three hundred will come with thee,  
As you at dawn shall see,  
Two maids shall the Abbey give away,  
To follow the warrior's way.  
  
The way is hard, but the maids must learn  
In order to return. With that, Trey fell into a deep asleep, forgetting all that had been said.  
  
Varclatt, glanced at his companions. All had faces darkened with ash and all were eager, waiting upon his orders. They lay along the top of a ridge, watching a small family of hedgehogs below them. It was near dusk and already the first stars could be seen in the eastern sky. The tall grass that hid them was damp, and there was a cold wind making him shiver. Turning his attention to the family of hedgehogs toiling in their field he made sure none of the family was inside the squat little hovel behind them. His patrol of ten scouts, had been searching ahead of the main column all day, until they came upon the hedgehogs. There were eight of them, the mother, father, three older sons and two daughters and one baby.  
Grinning wickedly Varclatt, stood up and selected a green feathered shaft from his quiver, the others did the same. Laying it across his yew bow he sighted along the oaken shaft. Just as the elder son began to turn around Varclatt released the shaft with a sharp twang. With a deadly hiss the shaft whistled through the air, striking the hog through the head. The hog fell forward with a the shaft buried in the back of his head, the green feathers still showing. The blood began to flow in torrents from his head, creating a puddle on the ground. With a gasp of horror the hog mother grabbed her baby and clutching the baby to her chest ran into the house. Then another green feathered shaft stopped her at the threshold, with the arrow buried in her back. With a bellow of rage the father grabbed a club laying against the wall and charged the vermin. He swung high smashing a rat's head into bloody pulp. His two sons armed shovels with charged after him. They were big strong hogs, with huge muscles, but they were farmers with no proper weapons. A ferret side stepped and stuck his scimitar into the soft underbelly of one of the sons. He stared dumbfounded at the sword sticking out of him and as his blood spilled out, his life suddenly became counted in seconds to live. Then a rat struck the second son over the head with the handle of his dirk, he fell unconsciousness to the blood splattered ground. Then the father went down, mobbed by three rats who whipped him with bowstrings. At a nod from Varclatt, a rat lopped off the hog's head which fell onto the ground splattering the grass with more blood. Looking up Varclatt, stuck up his nose at the offending smell from the carcasses. As his patrol trooped away from the bloody ridge, smoke rose up behind them as the sun set a bloody red.  
  
The sky had darkened, and when the ranks stopped camp fires appeared by the hundreds, until it looked as if the ground was a field of flame. Frindel laid down on his cot, still in his cloak, and let his eyes search wearily watching the wax drip down from the four iron-cast candle holders that illuminated his tent. Frindel listened to the talk oust side his canvas tent. Several soilders had burst into song, which pleased Frindel. It meant his army was happy, which meant they would follow orders better. So far they had found enough to eat by fishing and raiding small farms, plus the food they had brought with them. Still he knew that this war could not last for long. Soon they would have to leave the coast, leaving behind the tide pools, and possibility of being re-supplied by ship. Clearing these matters from his head he began to fall asleep.  
Someone calling his name awakened him. With blurry eyes he recognized the face of his aid, the weasel called Flatnose. Snarling he struck out at the unfortunate weasel, smashing his jaw in. "Why, have you awakened me?", he growled dangerously. Only, a gurgling noise escaped Flatnose's throat. "Aw, you're useless", he screamed, kicking the sniveling weasel aside. Stepping into the cool darkness of the night he realized it must be near midnight. As his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, he recognized his head tracker talking to a sentry nearby. "You", he whispered quietly,"Get in here."  
Drawing aside his tent flap he let out a small ray of light that pieced the darkness, as he ushered in his tracker. Handing him a flagon of brandy, he motioned for him have a seat, and he sat across for him. Moving his dirk out of the way, the scout gratefully the rat scout looked nervously at the brandy and then at Frindel who sat staring quietly at him.  
  
"Lord", began Varclatt, "We tracked ahead, found no sign of the enemy though did encounter a hedgehog family, which after killing the father, mother and two sons we burnt the house leaving the two infant daughters and the baby unconsciousness to die. I think the village another day's march north, sir."  
After contemplating this Frindel,"Well, done Varclatt, now drink up. It won't kill you." He said, smiling wickedly.  
Varclatt hesitated, "Um, well that's okay sire, I'll just go now sir."  
Frindel gripped Varclatt's throat, bringing his face up to his, "Drink!", he snarled, slowly choking Varclatt. Wine dribbled down from is chin and down his tunic as he tried to drink with Frindel chocking him. Frindel let him go and Varclatt stumbled off massaging his throat in one paw and still clutching the wine in the other paw.  
Frindel laughed, an evil laugh, one of pure joy at the thought of the blood that had been spilled that night. Clutching some wine he laughed again, and again until he fell into a deep slumber. He was Frindel, the greatest rat warrior anywhere, the commander of two-thousand and with that thought in his head, he mouth twisted into an evil insane smile making him look even more frightening as he slept on.  
  
Outside his tent, the two sentries stepped away from his tent fearfully. The evil laughter made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Glancing toward his companion he whispered,"Frindel, is a mad beast!"  
"Ay, cully, yore right about that. But are two poor muggers like us s'upose today about it. He'll kill you if you talk bad a'bout him!"  
"Ay, mate yore right about that, though I guess all warlords are like that!"  
  
As the mist lifted the next morning it revealed the East Army, perched on the stop of a green hill. Pennants fluttered bravely from lances as the sun rose, and so they waited. 


	3. First Blood

Thanks for all the reviews. Happy New Year! It has been a while since I last updated.  
  
War is not about dying for your country. It's about making the other son of  
a bitch die for his. - General George Patton  
  
Trey awoke that morning early, as he always did. He watched the sun rise over his beloved Abbey, flooding his room with light. Forcing himself to rise, he pulled on his green tunic and then walked into the kitchen where he warmed up the morning fires and grabbed an apple. Polishing it on his shirt he gazed admiring at the abbey grounds. Walking to the gatehouse he crept past a slumbering Nett and grabbed his sword from were it rested on the wall. Standing at the abbey pond, Trey admired the sword as the morning sun reflected off the blade. Spinning the blade up in the air it twirled up and then Trey caught its black pommel handle right before it hit the ground, blade first. Spinning the blade faster and faster he half closed his eyes in concentration. Then with a cry, he grabbed the blade and cleaved the fallen apple core in two. Tugging the sword free from where it was stuck point first in the earth, he started spinning it again, so fast that it seemed as if he was waving a silver banner and not his lethal sword of metal. He spun his sword in figure eights and butterflies, finally closing his exercise by chopping a thick oaken barrel laying near-by in half. The blade struck all the way through, burying it's self in the ground. Tugging it free Trey glanced up and saw Nett coming toward him from the abbey. "Ahoy there, Trey." yelled Nett. "It's been a while since you took out yore blade. Usually you just swim laps in the pond."  
"Yes, well, I think I might need this blade soon. But you can't have come over here just to watch me exercise. What's going on?" asked Trey, sheathing his sword in it's black leather case.  
"Breakfast is starting Trey, and the abbess wants ta see you. Something about an announcement."  
"Err, right, I'll be right there Nett." said Trey. Walking along the great hall, Trey turned and glanced at the Tapestry of Martin the Warrior. Suddenly in a flash he remembered last night's dream. Entering Cavern Hole from where he could smell breakfast he took his usual seat next to the Abbess and said hello.  
"My friends," said the Abbess, rising from her seat. A polite silence filled the room as the jolly Redwallers became quiet to listen to their mother Abbess. "As you know," continued the Abbess, "Our friends, Rive and Sinetra have just returned from the East Coast. They have returned with dire news. Lord Dunbar of the East Coast is under attack by a large army of vermin. Being Redwallers we have pledged to protect the weak and help the injured. Our abbey warrior, Trey, has volunteered to lead an army to assist Lord Dunbar. Are there any volunteers?" At once everyone started talking. Then the otter chieftain, Skipper, whacked his tail on the banquet table. At once order was restored. The otter was strong and muscular with a sling tied around his waist.  
"Redwall has always helped my crew when we're in need. I'll join you my friend." Log-a-Log, the shrew chieftain lifted his infant son off his lap and handed him to his wife. "The Guosim shrews of Mosseflower, will go with you, it has been long seasons since there was a good fight."  
Soon after as breakfast was being cleared away, Trey led his army out onto the Abbey grounds. Some two hundred otters and shrews made up most of the army, and then there was a few squirrels archers and the rest were hedgehogs and mice and one or two moles led by their leader, the Foremole. All of them were armed and with a nod from Trey they formed in ranks. Taking the leaders to one side he spoke to Log-a-Log, skipper and Foremole.  
  
"Well, skipper, Lo-a-Log, your warriors are certainly well trained and the moles can sling, but the rest have hardly ever fired a shot in anger before, and they form at least a sixth of our army. So keep an eye on our new recruits.  
"Wait Trey wait!" distracted by the call Trey turned to see who it was. It was Rive and Sinetra running towards him. "We're coming to!" yelled Rive.  
Each was armed with short daggers and carried provisions. Trey saw the Abbess, along with some other interested folk walking down to say good- bye. And to Sinetra's surprise Trey only nodded and showed them to where they were supposed to march. At last as they were formed up in ranks of four, Trey yelled for the chieftains to take their places up-front with him. Then he bowed to the Mother Abbes who presented him with his sword.  
"Thank you, good mother Abbess, I pledge upon this sword and my honor as a warrior, to bring this sword back safely to the Abbey with the East Coast safe once more. Then to the sound of rousing cheers he saluted the Abbess with his sword and holding it up right like a flag, led forth his army into the green tranquility of Mossflower Woods, heading east.  
  
Frindel nodded to the captain to make his report and inwardly groaned. He had a terrible, splitting, headache from last night's wine. "Enemy is formed up, right over the ridge on top of a hill. Can't tell 'ow many sire." The ferret having made his report saluted and snapped to attention, eyes staring straight ahead. Dismissing the ferret, who gladly scurried away, Frindel called one of his personal guards to him.  
"Send Scringe to me right away." The guard nodded then left. Frindel studied his map, set out before him. There should be a river to his right side, hills in front of him. Fringe carefully studied the map, suddenly interrupted by an old ferret covered with scars and wearing the rags of what was once a grand cloak. An old rusted cutlass hung at his side. "Scringe, take your division and cross the river, march forward two miles. Then cross back over. This will bring you in behind the enemy. Tonight at the signal, attack them from the back; the rest will attack from the front. Understood?" asked Frindel.  
"Yes sir!"  
"Alright", said Frindel. "Get outta here, oh and Scringe." said Frindel,  
"Yes sir?" asked Scringe as he turned around.  
"Don't screw up!" yelled Frindel as he dug his claws into the ferret's back.  
Stepping out of his tent, Frindel headed to a slightly smaller tent nearby, motioning for two of his guards to follow him. At the entrance he yelled in, "Half Tail, Randall, Badfang, Harren, and Longear, get out here!"  
"Says who!" replied a sleepy voice. Seething with rage, Frindel grabbed a spear and began whacking the befuddled officers inside. "Your commander, that's who", he replied. Grabbing their smarting behinds, the five unlucky officers ran out and formed in a line, wearing bits and pieces of armor and uniform. Shaking his head in disgust, Frindel walked up and down the line. His sinewy arms still holding the spear. Snapping the spear in half with his incredible strength, he tossed it away. The five rats in front of him drew back silently. "Listen carefully you five. Each of you takes your beasts and has them form up. With five hundred beasts you should have enough, I want you take that hill. Or at least keep the defenders busy for today. Tonight your beasts can fall back, ten others will replace you all, for the night attack. Now go, and in the name of King Reonmad, the ruler of the dead, may we have a victory by tonight.  
Not bothering to finish dressing, the five officers began calling out to aids. Soon they were formed up, and the lone drummer began to play as the five hundred with Scringe's hundred in front began to march.  
Inside the tent, the remaining fourteen officers watched them march off. They were all big, strong rats. As Scringe was the only ferret officer. "I tell ya, mates, Frindel has gone mad, he has." said Deadpaw. "Aye your right there matey, but he's also a grand general." replied one of his brother officers. "Well the way I figure is wee's let him beat the mice, then we slip a knife in his ribs during the night. Aye, after that we can take care of that old fool, Reonmad to. Then we'll have the East Coast and the island to ourselves. We'll live like kings, with no beast to boss us around. Who's with me?" asked Deadpaw, sticking out his own sword. Giggling like naughty dibbins they crossed swords with Deadpaw. "We're with you mate, we're with you."  
  
Feldco was a military genius. It's true. Dunbar walked into the tent followed by Feldco. "Well, make your report Feldco. Are the troops in position?"  
Feldco looked up, nodding the affirmative. "Och, course they're en position. The river voles just finished ferrying the rest across. Positions 'ave been takin' op on both sides of the river, mousey."  
"Then come with me, we'll inspect the positions." Their tent had been set next to a small dusty road that wound down the hill. At all times, day and night, carts heaving food and weapons and new recruits were swarming up the side of the hill. At the very edge of these hills, small, shallow holes were dug into the ground. In every one of these sat two soldiers next to the embers of last night's campfire. Most were wearing capes to keep warm against the morning chill. All nodded pleasantly and gave a cheer at the sight of Dunbar. Slowly Dunbar watched as the morning sun burned away the fog, illuminating the green valley below. Suddenly the hill stopped, and Dunbar was looking down a tall cliff. Below them the water ran swift, treacherous, and sparkling blue. About twenty archers stood behind a small stonewall, guarding the river below them. At a nod from Feldco the captain, a squirrel, fired a burning shaft across the river in a tall arc. Before disappearing in the fog on the other side. Then, almost immediately, a second burning shaft thudded near the captain's foot. Peering as hard as he could, Dunbar could just make out several dark figures on the other side.  
"We 'ave two-hunnered and fifty on the other side, just as planned. Their unnder da command of an otter named Galo. He is a very cappable cap'tain. So Och took the liberty of promoting him. Also sire, Ah'm pleased to report that we 'ave nnother fifty recruits, o'ver here sir. Waiting for your inspection sir." Turning around, Dunbar was confronted by fifty of the most terrified creatures he had seen. The cause of their sorrow was evident by looking at their drill sergeant The burly hedgehog glowered over them, tapping his pace stick in his other paw as he strode past their ranks. The recruits were clothed in the green and white capes of the east army, armed with dirks and slingshots. Though even with the hedgehog's (who Dunbar rembered as being named Hervey) best efforts, a few of the recruits still sported their straw farm hats or other garments of a more peaceful life.  
At Hervey's command the recruits marched across the length of the hill, did a back face and marched back to the other side, under the stern gaze of Dunbar and Feldco. Then they sent a volley of stones at several targets then reloaded and fired again. A very creditable exercise, thought Dunbar. Finally they drew their dirks, and in groups of five, proceeded to rip the targets to shreds. The recruits beamed up at Dunbar and Feldco and started chattering among themselves, knowing they had performed very well.  
"Now you are soldiers, excellent drill. Hervey, show them to their positions and divide them into two squads. They can join Colonel Clubtail's beasts. Dismissed sergeant. Now then, is there anything else to attend to Feldco?" asked Dunbar, watching the new recruits march away. "Sire, I a'm goin to send down a hundered skrimishers at the base of the hills." " Why certainly Feldco, that's a capital idea." Feldco left Dunbar to watch the river below as he rounded up his troops. The morning sun shone brightly on the East Army, a sense of peace fell over the army, a peace soon to be shattered by war.  
  
Fog still hung at the bottom of the hill, not yet burned away by the sun's rays. A young squirrel drew back his bow. Aiming at the shadowy figures in front he waited until he could tell they were indeed vermin. Laying his arm over a branch he took aim at a rat's torso. Relaxing the string with trembling fingers, he sent up a silent prayer. Taking a deep breath he picked up his bow again. Then drawing back the bow as far as it could go, he fired.  
  
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